


Checkmate

by canonjohnlock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Commoner Dean, Cute, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Prince Castiel, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonjohnlock/pseuds/canonjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Castiel is searching for a wife. He finds something better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> I know NOTHING about royalty so if I screwed up some terms, please excuse me. Also, I just looked up random, modern princesses, so if some of the details are wrong, please excuse me again. This also hasn't been beta-ed, so if you see any mistakes, tell me and I'll fix them. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Are you ready?” Queen Ruth asked her oldest son, pausing before the tall oak doors. 

Prince Castiel took a breath and nodded. “I believe so, yes.”

The queen smiled and nodded at the guards to open the doors. The doors swung open slowly and the attendees rose to their feet. The maestro raised his hands and with a wave the orchestra began playing in perfect sync. It was nothing Castiel hadn’t seen before, but this dance was different from the others he was required to attend. His mother, who was getting on in years, was concerned her son would never marry. Queen Ruth organized this dance, inviting princesses from surrounding countries and the most beautiful girls in their country, hoping her son would meet the woman he would like to marry. She peered at her son, who stood tall and straight, shoulders back, a warm smile upon his face. 

Prince Castiel truly was very handsome. He was tall, just an inch shy of six foot. When he was a boy, he had been very small and very fragile, but puberty had done him well. He put on a decent amount of muscle mass from doing various sports, such as tennis or fencing or riding. He had ivory skin, unblemished and very beautiful. It contrasted well with his dark hair that never seemed to stay put. His vibrant blue eyes were deep set under dark eyebrows that pulled together when he was confused. Pink lips spread to reveal pearly white teeth. His jaw was square and sharp. All of this was placed above broad, strong shoulders. 

The singer the castle had hired, a petite blonde named Michelle, spoke in a clear voice. “Please welcome, Your Majesty, Queen Ruth, and the man of the hour, Prince Castiel.” She smiled at him and Castiel nodded in return. 

The attendees clapped as Castiel and Ruth bowed and curtseyed. The orchestra began playing a waltz and Castiel bowed before his mother, extending his hand. They danced to the familiar rhythm. Castiel’s hand rested on his mother’s waist and the other held her hand delicately. 

“Mother,” he began, spinning her quickly. “How, exactly, will this work?”

Queen Ruth laughed. “Dance with whomever you find attractive.”

“How will dancing determine whether or not I want to marry her?” Castiel asked.

Ruth shook her head. “You talk to them while you dance, honey.”

“How?”

“Like you are now, Castiel.”

Castiel furrowed his brow and dipped his mother as the song came to an end. “Wish me all the luck,” he said, kissing his mother’s cheek. 

“Good luck, Castiel.” She smiled and curtseyed, leaving her son alone in the middle of the floor. 

Castiel smiled at the crowd and hurried over to the caterers, where they were handing out finger food and glasses of champagne. He accepted a glass of sparkling cider and took a long drink, eyes darting around the large ballroom. Several couples had taken the floor and were showing off their moves. Castiel finished his drink and handed the empty glass back to the caterer. 

He saw a rather stunning girl sitting at one of the tables, legs crossed and hands folded upon her knee. Castiel recognized her as Princess Madeleine of Sweden. She was third in line for the throne and probably would never rule unless she married. She seemed to be a good first choice. Castiel pushed his shoulders back and walked confidently over to her, bowing before her and offering his elbow. “Care to dance, Princess Madeleine?” he asked, voice low and gravelly. 

The princess looked up and smiled, looping her arm through Castiel’s. “I would love to, Prince Castiel.”

Castiel smiled as they took the center of the floor. “Please, call me Castiel.”

She giggled and placed her hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Then you must call me Maddie.”

“If you insist.” 

They moved slowly, careful to avoid stepping on each other’s toes. “Did the Queen insist upon this party?” Maddie asked.

Castiel chuckled. “Is it obvious?”

Maddie shook her head. “Not to others.”

“But it is to you?”

She grinned. “You walk with… exaggerated confidence. As if it’s too forced.”

“Well, you’ve got me there.” Castiel smiled. “You didn’t seem too thrilled to be here, either.”

“My sister insisted I come.”

“Why’s that?”

“She thinks I’m lonely.”

“Are you?”

Maddie shrugged. “Not really, no. It is hard, however, to find men, let alone princes, who aren’t total douches. Excuse my French.”

“I understand the douche complex.” Castiel winked, causing Maddie to blush. 

The song ended and they bowed to each other. “Hopefully, I will see you later,” Maddie said as a parting statement. 

Castiel grinned and surveyed the crowd for another partner. He spotted a short, curvy brunette with dark eyes. He smiled and approached her, bowing. She was a commoner and very pretty. She accepted his dance offer. 

“I don’t think I ever caught your name,” Castiel said sweetly. 

“Meg. Meg Masters.”

“You can call me Castiel.”

“Good to know,” she said. 

The two of them did not dance very well together and Meg wasn’t much of a talker. They stepped on each other’s toes and she swore like a sailor. While Castiel didn’t mind the occasional swear, every other word in her vocabulary was four letters and could not be repeated. Castiel ended the dance abruptly, making an excuse of a desperate need to use the bathroom. 

His next dance, with one Princess Alexandra, was more awkward than bad. She wasn’t much of a talker, but made plenty of eye contact. Castiel felt like she was staring directly into his soul. Though she did ooze an aura of intelligence, which Castiel valued greatly, they did not click. He waited until the song ended and then excused himself. On to the the next lady. 

Princess Märtha Louise of Norway was very pretty indeed but talked too much, not allowing Castiel to get a word in edgewise. After the Princess of Norway Castiel danced with a commoner named Rosemary. Though gorgeous, her breath was rancid. On to the next. 

And so Castiel’s night continued. He danced with fifteen more girls, none of them more charming or sweet than Maddie. When he went to find her to have that second dance, Castiel saw her dancing with his cousin, Gabriel, who was obviously charming the pants- er, dress- off of her. Castiel sighed. 

He walked over to the caterers and asked from more champagne. “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness. We’ve just run out.”

“That’s okay. Thank you, though,” Castiel said, smiling weakly. 

“There should be more served at dinner, Prince Castiel, if you can wait until then,” the caterer called out. 

Castiel nodded his understanding. 

“Castiel!” Queen Ruth sang, coming to a stop beside her son. “Find any possible wives?”

“One. I believe she is spoken for, though.” Castiel glanced back over at Gabriel and Maddie. Definitely spoken for. 

“Keep trying, Castiel. You’ll find the one.” The Queen rushed off to dance with another young dashing prince. 

“Care to dance?” a high-pitched voice questioned.

Castiel looked to his right and saw a small mousy girl of about fifteen. “And your name is?”

“Grace.”

“Nice to meet you, Grace. I would love to.” Castiel couldn’t stand to be rude to such a young girl. They walked out to the floor and Castiel placed his hands on her waist. He bent his knees slightly so Grace could place her hands on his shoulders. She was sweet and smart. Castiel was actually enjoying himself. Until she dropped her hand and groped his butt. Castiel didn’t worry about being rude then. 

“I- um- I need to- Bathroom,” he stuttered. He bowed and quickly fled to the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned against it. He puffed up his cheeks and blew the air out slowly. “Okay,” he said to himself. He placed his hands on either side of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. “Okay,” he repeated. He jabbed a finger at his reflection. “You are Prince Castiel, heir to the throne.” Castiel lowered his head and groaned. “Who am I kidding?” He turned on the faucet and splashed his face with cold water. “I’m a joke,” he whined, leaning against the wall and slinking down. He drew his knees to his chest and placed his forehead on them. He sat there for a good twenty minutes before the door was pushed open and it hit him on the top of the head. “Ow!” he wailed, looking up. A young man with golden hair and emerald eyes stared at him with a slack jaw. 

“Oh, Your Highness, I- I’m sorry. The door was unlocked and- I’m sorry. I’ll just go,” he stuttered, beginning to close the door. 

Castiel sighed and stood up. “It’s alright. I was just leaving.”

The man stared at him and smiled softly, the corners of his lips curling up just so. “No; you weren’t.” He closed the door behind him and locked it. He sat on the floor across from where Castiel was standing. “I wouldn’t have hit you with the door if you were just leaving.”

Castiel smiled and sat back down on the floor, folding his legs into a pretzel. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So, what’s Prince Castiel doing hiding in a bathroom?” he asked. 

“Castiel. Just Castiel.”

The man grinned widely. “Dean.” Dean extended his hand. Castiel shook it and smiled. 

“One too many sour dances,” Castiel said in answer to Dean’s question. 

Dean lifted one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel confirmed. 

“So why don’t you stop dancing?”  
Castiel laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wish I could.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Why can’t you?”

“My mother organized this dance. She’s getting on in her years and she doesn’t want me ruling alone.”

“This dance is supposed to find you a wife?”

“And it’s not going so well.”

“Why do you need a wife?” Dean asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

Castiel shrugged. “I think maybe my mother wants a direct bloodline to rule once I’m gone. Or maybe she’s worried that I’m lonely.”

“What do you want, Castiel?” 

Castiel frowned and looked at the tiled ground. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want a wife?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything?” Dean asked teasingly though there was a hint of sorrow in his voice. 

Castiel laughed softly. “No one’s ever asked me so many questions.”

“Probably because your answer is always ‘I don’t know’.” 

Castiel grinned. “Probably. Did my mother invite a sister of yours?”

“No. I’ve only got a younger brother, Sammy. I work in the kitchen. The Queen’s royal dishwasher.”

“I must say, my mother has good taste in who she hires.” Castiel bit his lower lip, wondering how that must’ve sounded. “Sammy, huh?” Castiel asked, hoping to cover up his blunder. 

“He prefers Sam, but yeah. He’s four years younger but a hell of a lot smarter than me.” Dean smiled, eyes staring at an invisible spot on the ceiling. “He’s got a lot of potential. He’s gonna do great things, I know it.”

“And you aren’t?”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Queen’s royal dishwasher, remember?”

“Well thanks to you, I’m not eating off dirty plates.”

“Saving Prince Castiel from disease. I’m doing the world such a favor.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“You’re actually doing me a favor,” Castiel said.

“What? Preventing you from dying? I’m pretty sure one dirty plate won’t kill you.”

“No, assbutt,” Castiel sighed, shaking his head. “Talking to me.”

Dean blushed a light pink. “Assbutt?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow and smirking. 

“Forgive me if my swears are sub-par.”

Dean laughed. “You’re a funny guy.”

Castiel squinted at Dean. “Am I not supposed to be?”

Dean waved his hand. “No, I just expected some stuck-up douche nozzle. I’m gladly mistaken.”

“Douche nozzle? I’m going to use that some time.”

“In what? Your coronation speech?”

Castiel laughed, doubling over and wheezing. “Sure! Why not?”

“I’d love to hear the press’ reaction to that, Cas.”

Castiel smiled at the nickname and stood up. “I should probably get back out there before they begin a search party.”

Dean stood as well, brushing dust off the back of his black pants. “Yeah. Sebastian is probably wondering where I am. He’s probably thinking I’m skirting out on dishwashing duty.”

“Dean?” Cas asked, looking him in the eye.

“Yeah?”

“Can I have this dance?”

“Definitely.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Checkmate: The Tabloid Remix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681776) by [neverwherever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwherever/pseuds/neverwherever)




End file.
